


The Paranormalist

by writtxn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Borderline Smut, F/M, Not quite smut but almost smut, Reader-Insert, Wing Kink, Y'Know?, some strong language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 20:13:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11364795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtxn/pseuds/writtxn
Summary: Gabriel is injured and Cas is MIA, with no one else to help the Winchester's turn to their secondary angel expert I'm the middle of the night.





	The Paranormalist

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! First thing I've ever posted on here and I'm hoping it goes down well! 
> 
> I've only seen up to season like season 7 of Supernatural (so pls excuse any mistakes) but I'm attempting to catch up at the moment, and I love me some angels so this happened. 
> 
> With that in mind, please be gentle with me.

The way she had first come into contact with the Winchester brothers was unusual, to say the least.  

It was her work that lead her to them, or, more aptly, lead them to her. Even so, over time it had come to be one of her fondest memories, not so because it was a spectacular introduction, but because it had led to the absolutely unquestionable expansion of her research. Her small corner of knowledge had stretched into an unyielding world of new expertise, all because of two brothers, their angel, and a prophet whose books had seen them all in the same room. Yes, she did look back on that day as one of her best, despite the fact that it had been a rather tense and unconventional introduction.

*-*-*-*-*

_“A paranormalist?” Dean’s voice was almost as disbelieving as his eyes were condescending, which only served to stoke the fire of her frustration._

_“Yes, a paranormalist.” She hissed back, all the hostility of a snake that had been stepped on, “I shouldn’t think that would be so hard to believe for someone who claims to hunt that which I study.”_

_“M-maybe we should cool it, guys, there’s no need for things to get heated.” Chuck interjected before Dean could retaliate with more heated words, Sam standing idly off to the side in an attempt to gather his thoughts._

_“No need?!” Dean spat, his eyes darting between Chuck and the woman he loathed in this moment, “She could have gotten us killed?”_

_“Me?! Oh, you arrogant piece of shit! I saved you!” She hurled back, eyes alight, “You charged in there, half a plan and no way out, with no idea what you were dealing with!”_

_“Listen, lady, we know what we’re doing. It wasn’t the first vamp’s nest we’ve been in but it could have been our last because of your stupid ass!” The argument didn’t seem to have a stopping point between the two of them, Sam was still collecting himself, tending a wound he’d received in the scuffle that led them here._

_“She’s right…” Chuck spoke up again, effectively silencing the two people before him, “that’s why I sent her there.”_

_“_ You _sent her?” Sam asked curiously, his brows furrowing in confusion._

_“More importantly, she’s right?” Dean inquired, the anger in his tone already easing to make room for his inability to comprehend what had actually happened._

_“Well, I-I met her a few months ago at a convention for paranormal literature, I recognised the signs from one of her books.” He stuttered out quickly, attempting to soothe the tension in the room, Sam and Dean turned their eyes back to her, she simply sighed._

_“I write guides, kind of.” She explained, always awkward in the face of discussing her own works “Sometimes they’re factual accounts of supernatural happenings and encounters, other times it’s case studies on specific creatures or subgroups. My main areas of study are angels and demons.”_

_“It was a trap.” Sam sighed heavily, rubbing his face. It wasn’t a question, more a confession of realization that made the angry tension fall from Dean’s shoulders to be replaced by a guilty rigidness._

_“Yeah, and I dreamt about her being there,” Chuck piped up quickly, “so I called her a-and told her where you were.”_

_“Chuck said there was a trap set by angels, and you we’re walking into it.” She said slowly, using the opening to take her in speaking, “By the time I got the message and checked it out, I couldn’t get in contact with either of you, luckily you weren’t too far away so I-”_

_“So, you stormed in and risked getting us all killed?” Dean finished for her, and defensively as well. She floundered to find the correct words for a moment._

_“Well, what else could I have done? I saved your lives!” Her tone was frustrated as she was, saving lives shouldn’t have to feel this way, should it? And were the people they saved ever this ungrateful?  “I’m sorry but I’m not exactly a hunter! I’m a writer, I barely leave my desk most days but I managed to save both of your asses, it hardly seems fair that you attack me for my means of keeping you from dying.”_

_“Thankyou.” Sam finally said, meeting her eyes and smiling softly, “Really… We appreciate it. Don’t we, Dean?” Sam attempted to force the gratefulness from his stubborn brother._

_“Thanks.” Dean grunted, his body language read defeat from every angle, and perhaps it was her keen analytical eye, but she didn’t believe it was defeat in their argument. Perhaps it was the fact that he felt he had so blindly led himself and his brother to what could have been their untimely deaths._

_“It’s fine,” her anger had subsided now, and she was left only with a relief that no one was lying lifeless on a stretcher, and an understanding for the man before her whose shoulders seemed weighted with regret, “seriously, I’ve been studying angels for years now and I didn’t even pick up on the omens in my own town, Chuck had to tell me.”_

_Dean’s slight smile made her believe that he was thankful for her attempts to repair his ego, the tightness of it led her to believe that it did little to soothe him still. “So you study angels?” Sam questioned, shifting the conversation in a new direction, one that was more light-hearted perhaps._

_“I do, I guess that’s ironic considering their about the only supernatural creature I’ve never actually seen with my own eyes.” She chuckled softly, scratching the back of her head._

_“Lucky.” Sam, Dean, and Chuck all spoke in unison then, and somehow the atmosphere seemed slightly lighter even just because of that one moment._

_“I find them fascinating, their culture, their physiology, and somehow I’ve never seen one so all of my information is based on what other people or creatures have seen or written. It gets difficult to weed out the fact from fiction, which is why it’s taken me years to even get to a point of confidence in my research.”  It was true, in all her years of meticulous and almost obsessive study, she’d never seen an actual angel and as if on some heavenly cue, she heard an unfamiliar voice from behind her._

_“Dean…” His voice was low and sudden, she whipped around so fast she almost lost her footing, he was an attractive gentlemen, dark hair and piercing blue eyes, quite scruffy and dishevelled, yet still there was a certain composure to him that was undeniable._

_“Good timing, Cas.” Dean grunted sarcastically, Sam chuckled to himself, Chuck had ended up sequestered in an armchair in the corner, simply watching the events unfold, no doubt planning exactly how he would describe the current scene playing out in his living room._

_“This is the woman who saved you.” The newcomer said, his voice monotonous and commanding of a power she wasn’t used to as his eyes, with the depths of oceans, bore into her own. Dean nodded, Sam did as well. “Thankyou.” He said simply._

_“I-It’s okay.” She stuttered back, managing a small smile._

_“I would have attended to it myself, unfortunately I was dealing with business in heaven.” Her eyes widened marginally at his words, spoken so casually, she looked back at Dean and Sam with a look of bewilderment and what could only be described as childlike joy. The look of hopeful questioning on her face actually made Dean smile, only slightly, and only for a fleeting second. He nodded, as did Sam, and she turned back to the angel._

_“Castiel?” She asked softly, his brows immediately knitting together in confusion._

_“Yes?” He responded simply._

_“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so star struck by an angel.” Chuck said fondly from his corner._

_*-*-*-*-*_

The rest was history. Castiel was able to confirm the majority of her findings, in fact he’d been wildly impressed with her accuracy given her lack of contact with any of his brothers or sisters before him. After that day he had become an occasional willing subject to her study in return for her assistance to the Winchester’s in all business heavenly when they couldn’t contact, or perhaps couldn’t trust, the angels themselves. Since then her life, her world, and her research had grown so exponentially she couldn’t quite believe herself how far she’d come in such a short time, though she wasn’t complaining at all. In a short time she had learned about their true physiology, the way they truly lived, and had even had the luck to learn the names, descriptions, and stories of a few of the major angelic players that had taken their turns appearing through the Winchester’s travels.

Their relationships had always been this, a trade off of information, a mutual need for knowledge on situations regarding the livelihood of themselves or those innocents they spent their lives defending. Never had they come to her without warning by form of phone call or even text, and even then it was incredibly rare for either of them to come to her home anyway. Given their arrangement, face to face meetings weren’t at all essential, in fact her most frequent visitor _at all_ was Castiel. Her funding to sustain her life and her research came from her writings, and due to the controversial nature of her subject matter she found it best to live in solitude, and with the sizeable inheritance she’d gotten from the family that was taken from her, she had brought her isolation, in a farmhouse on an acreage just large enough to be disconnected from a world that was infested with the unpleasant things she studied. Her space was her sanctuary, and they knew this.  

It was a Sunday morning, a very early and very gloomy Sunday morning wrought with dark clouds and scattered rains that coated her fields and tapped relentlessly on the roof of her home with a relentlessness only the rain could have. At 3am, in the cold and dark of a storm, she was awoken by a violent pounding on her door, and cries almost drowned out by the thunder that rolled across the sky that moment. “Open up! Y/N!” His voice was unmistakable in its urgent gruffness, and the echo of the pounding startled her from sleep, his voice serving to bring her to her feet. As she scurried through the dark halls of her home, pulling her fluffy robe tighter around her shivering body, she wracked her brain for an answer as to what could be wrong, her mind only turning up the worst of answers. She threw the door back, the panic that flooded her not subsiding at the sight she revealed.  

Sam and Dean were fine, if not saturated from the downpour, but propped up on their shoulders, an arm around each of the brothers, was a man she didn’t recognize. There was little of him she could make out in the dark, but undoubtedly his shirt was tattered and bloody, his body limp and unable to hold itself up, his head hung in weakness. “We need your help.” Sam grunted.  

“B-Bring him inside.” She stuttered, yawning uncontrollably as she stepped back, the brothers attempted to bring him inside, only to be stopped by an invisible barrier.  

“Is your house warded?!” Dean asked urgently, only receiving a frantic nod at first in response.  

“What is he?!” She asked over the violence of the storm.  

“Where do you meet Cas?” Sam asked, hoisting the man up carefully between himself and his brother.  

“Out in the barn!” She called back, pushing out the door and pulling it shut. She gestured for them to follow her as she hurried around her house in the rain towards the barn out back. The boys followed as fast as they possibly were able.

It took only seconds for her to open the barn doors, whipping winds thrashing against them and forcing them inwards, almost taking her with them. It was closing the monolithic things that proved a challenge when she was forcing them back into place against the angry winds, she silently thanked whatever entity was out there for the adrenaline that was coursing through her vibrating around the near empty barn. Once the doors we’re firmly in place she hurried back to the boys, who were placing the mysterious man on the examination table in the centre of the expansive room, hitting the lights on her way over. The barn was illuminated in a warm yellow light as she stumbled over, quickly tearing away her robe for mobility despite the cold, hastily pulling her hair back so it was out of the way as she came to stand before the injured man… or whatever he was.  

“What is he?” She asked, resting her hands on his chest to steady him as he swayed, fading in and out of consciousness under her hands.  

“Angel.” Dean said quickly, both him and his brother keeping hold at each side of the injured angel, “We didn’t know where else to go, we called for Cas and got no answer.” He explained quickly, Y/N had already started her examination, in the light it had become clear that he was in much worse shape than she had imagined in her door way only moment ago. The tatters of his T-shirt were covered in blood, coming in fresh waves that she couldn’t locate the source of through the mess.

“One I know?” She asked, almost distantly as she scurried across to one of the workbenches that lined the sides of the room, coming back with a tray of implements, setting it down on the small bench beside the examination table.

“Oh, yeah you’re real familiar with this asshole.” Dean growled softly, the angel’s hand instantly jerked from Dean’s grasp, Y/N had to drop what she was doing to grab his shoulders. His head snapped up, his eyes locking with hers, they glowed like afternoon sun on rolling fields of grain, and they were the most beautiful colour she’d ever witnessed swimming with pain, laboured with staying awake to the world.  

“ _Gabriel._ ” Her voice came breathless, their staring contest interrupted when her fingers slipped on his biceps, coated with crimson blood. Her eyes tore away from his, flicking frantically around his form as she searched for injuries.  

“How did you know?” Sam asked, as she began cutting away the remnants of the shirt, the angels weary, curious eyes following her. The truth was, she had no idea _how_ she knew it was him, she just did. Maybe it made sense, of all her angelic studies, Gabriel had been the most elusive of her subjects, which shouldn’t have surprised her given he was, after all, the trickster. Everything she knew of him for fact had come from the Winchester’s, and if there was one angel of all of them, that captured her interests so firmly it was the crown king of mischief himself, sat before her in grave injury, meaning there was no time to be awestruck.  

“Let’s call it intuition.” She grunted, already focused on searching him for wounds, the blood was still coming steady as her fingers slid across his skin, searching for cuts or gashes and finding none. His breathing was growing more and more ragged by the second which only seemed to rise her heart rate, time was slipping faster than she could salvage it.  

“What is it?” Dean asked, noting the concern on her face and the anxious heaving of her chest.

“His grace has healed the vessel, which means the blood is coming from elsewhere.” Her voice was strained as she said the words, grabbing a nearby towel and hurrying around to his back to discard the material there and try to momentarily halt the flow of blood.

“Elsewhere?” Dean questioned, watching her quickly become erratic. Y/N was panicking, she had been working with Castiel for months and this was his one hold out, the one thing he had refused to show her. He’d taught her about them, but never had he ever even considered showing her himself, and given how he had explained it, how intimate he had said it was, she had never blamed him. Now, that was to her detriment and fear crept up her throat like vines of poison ivy.

“His true form.” She said simply, specifics weren’t going to be her friend here. “I need you guys to leave.”

“You can’t hold him up alone.” Sam argued, still holding the angels arm seeing as Gabriel was too weak to shove him off, even moving his arm from Dean’s grip had lost him precious breath.  

“I’ll find a way.” Her eyes met Sam’s, pleading, begging him to trust her and just go. He nodded, but Dean wasn’t so easily persuaded.  

“No way, where he is we are. I’m not letting him give us the slip again!” Dean grunted towards the failing vessel of the archangel, Y/N growled and glared in the older brother’s direction, oozing impatience.  

“I do not have time for this! You leave and I have the slightest chance of saving him or stay and he will die, drenched in his own blood. Your choice.” Her voice was menacing beyond any demon’s he had ever heard, and it almost frightened him, but that was an advantage because he agreed to leave with Sam, “Quickly, you can go to the house.” she urged, as soon as they began to leave she ran back to be in front of the angel, gently lifting his head in her hands to speak to him.

“I need you to show me your wings.” She said softly, he breathed heavier with the effort it took to shake his head. He hadn’t revealed his wings to another living being in centuries, and a human? He had never. “You’ll die otherwise!” She said hopelessly, her bloodied hands shaking against his cheeks.  

“Then let me die,” he heaved out on tortured breaths, “I’ve done it before.” The first words he spoke to her fractured part of her soul she never realised she could feel.  

“Just show me!” She yelled back, her voice cracking as tears built up in her eyes, “You might be ready to die, but I’m not ready to watch it and I would force them from you if I could but I can’t. So I need you to show me!”  

He couldn’t place what it was, but something in her words stung him worse than any blade had, and her voice like a symphony of skilled musicians warped into helpless cries under the weight of what she was saying. Perhaps it was the pain, so intense and searing that his vision was blurring that softened his resolve, perhaps it was the blood loss that made his mind function incorrectly, whatever it was he closed his eyes, and willed the unused wings into existence.

Gabriel’s broken body shook with the effort, and an inhuman scream ripped from his throat as his blood stained wings stretched from his back, towering above them both and occupying the space around them. His body lurched forward, her shaking arms scrambling to catch his unconscious body, the last of his strength used to bare himself to her. Y/N desperately scrambled to find a pulse, allowing herself to breathe when she found it, faint at the side of his throat. In an adrenaline fuelled bout of strength, she lifted him onto his stomach on the table, lying him down and tilting his head to the side to allow him breath before stepping back to take in the sight of his massive wings, spread across her barn.

They were laid out, drooping to kiss the floor in his unconsciousness. In her mind, the first time she saw angel wings they were beautiful, strong, and commanding, black like raven’s feathers, oil slick colours dancing in a delicate light. Never had she thought she’d witness golden feathers on wings, the span of which would be more than three times her height, covered and matted in so much blood they almost looked a painful crimson themselves. However, this was a thought she couldn’t dwell on, the deep gashes matching on both wings needed now to occupy her attention, and so she hurried to action in the hopes of saving the life of an angel with golden wings.  

It took hours, eight to be exact, for her to clean the wounds and stitch them carefully, avoiding the feathers and sensitive spots she needed to in order to get the wounds closed and covered, and even after that fact came the cleaning to the feathers themselves, that took the longest. Individually she went through to clean away the blood and tangles, the broken and bent feathers that cluttered him beautiful wings. When she was finished, the feathers sat to cover the stitches she’d placed, and his newly cleaned wings looked as though they had never even been touched in the first place. She cleaned away what blood she could from his body, from down his back, carefully and very difficult manoeuvring him to be able to wipe away the blood and debris from his front, finally folding his wings into his body gently to check her stitches would hold through bending (they did) and partially to keep him warm. When finally she was done, it was her who looked as though she had survived a great battle, and Gabriel laid clean and angelic, as though he’d stumbled into a stranger’s barn and fell asleep. By the time all was done, it was near noon, the weather still severe, making the world seem dull and ready to be swallowed again by night. The golden wings gave off a soft glow, warm as well she had found in her close work with them, so she switched the light off and laid down on the floor, her legs wouldn’t carry her the short way to the house, she was weary to her very bones, and so she laid on the ground, a few feet away from her angel trapped in slumber, hoping to steal the warmth of his wings without getting too close. As soon as her body stopped moving, sleep fell on her all at once, and she happily let it consume her.

“Y/N,” the voice was distant, and yet it cut through her sleep like a blade, as the haze of her sleep started to lift she felt the soft grip on her arm and the gentle shake, “well, she isn’t in a coma.” Were the first words she heard clearly, as her eyes fluttered open and her vision cleared to focus on Sam and Dean in front of her, she was in her living room, laid on the couch, which was distinctly different from where she had fallen asleep.  

“How long have I been asleep?” Y/N mumbled groggily, sitting up carefully and rubbing the sleep away from her eyes.  

“Almost a day.” Sam sighed, looking relieved that she’d even woken up.

“A day?” She wasn’t concerned, she didn’t sound it, just confused although after what had happened she wouldn’t blame herself if she had stayed asleep for three days, though she was grateful they’d been worried. Dean handed his phone over and she pressed the home button, sure enough it was Monday morning, just past 10am. “Oh, well… That’s alright.”

“Yeah, we’re sorry for waking you but we were worried you might have been hurt.” Sam explained, falling into a nearby arm chair.  Dean sat down on the couch beside her, wrapping his arm around her tired shoulders and she leaned into him. He was such a big brother, it was always comforting to her.  

“Why would I have been hurt?” It was a stupid question if she was being completely honest, they’d left her last while she was in a panic with a bleeding angel she could barely hold up.  

“We found you on the floor, covered in blood and dirt.” Dean said bluntly, rubbing her shoulder soothingly, she smiled and rolled her eyes.  

“God, so over protective.” She mumbled, making them all chuckle slightly, but immediately a heavy question was weighing on her mind, “What happened to Gabriel?”  Sam and Dean shared a look.  

“He was gone when we found you.” Sam said simply, Dean exhaled slowly, his whole body tensing just enough for her to notice.

“At least he’s alright.” She sighed, picking at her nails slightly. If she was to be honest, she was disappointed. She hadn’t expected more, she’d never thought that he would stick around to thank her, or that he might hang about just to meet her, and yet some part of her was still silently hoping he might have but it is what it is. There was nothing more that could be done.  

“Yeah, but he’s also fucked off into oblivion, and with Cas gone radio silence it’ll be years before we find him again.” Dean mumbled, Y/N sighed heavily, rubbing her face.

“I’m sorry guys, I didn’t mean to lose your angel. I just didn’t think to put down a trap.” She looked between them apologetically and Sam smiled back reassuringly.  

“It’s fine, Y/N. We’ll get what we need somewhere else.” He chuckled and Dean nodded, nudging her slightly until she smiled again.  

“Really, kid, you did good.” He kissed the top of her head and she sunk into the couch just a bit deeper, a bit more comfortably.

“Hell yeah, I didn’t even think you _could_ fix angel’s true forms.” Sam admitted softly, they were always so encouraging, it was a warm feeling that she enjoyed.  

“Neither did I.” Y/N shrugged, “I mean, I’d studied it all in theory but I’d never seen an angel’s wings in real life, let alone touched them. So, it was a lot of guess work based on my research but I guess it all worked out.”

“His wings? That’s what it was, his wings?” Sam asked, Dean’s brows furrowed in curiosity.

“Yeah, that’s where the injuries were, it makes sense considering they’re _the_ most sensitive part of an angel’s anatomy, in a fight that’s definitely where you’d aim.” She explained, her mind immediately drifting back to those wings. Those gorgeous wings that seemed to harness the sun in their beauty and their warmth, they were beautiful, expansive and so incredibly soft and delicate. She would dream of those wings, and she knew it.  

“Good to know.” Dean scoffed slightly, she only smiled tightly in response.  

The brothers left later that night, after they’d double checked every single sigil and ward in her home (and there we’re many), and made sure she had the correct numbers for all of their cells and burner cells, just in case she need them urgently, but had time to call twenty different numbers. When she was alone again, she found herself drawn back to her desk and her studies, it was already getting too late to go and clean the barn, so she left it for tomorrow, opting instead to settle in her chair and delve back into her research, updating what she could with her new knowledge of angel wings and the trickster himself, and there was much to write. There were moments where she simply closed her eyes in an attempt to remember every second of her encounter in acute detail, though she wouldn’t let herself focus on the memories for too long lest her mind be lost to them again, and it would be lost to them as desperately as she might attempt to fight it.  

Each time she sketched the wings they got more accurate, the picture in her mind only becoming clearer as rare as that seemed. It was imprinted on her mind like a brand, seared into the fabric of her own knowledge and she wasn’t opposed to it at all. That night she fell asleep surrounded by sketches and endless writings of the angel, and she was right.  

She did dream of those wings.  

When she woke the next morning, she wanted to will herself back to sleep, it had been an amazing dream, one in which she spent hours upon hours just grooming Gabriel’s wings, running her fingers through the soft down, at peace with everything in knowing her angel was there. “ _My_ angel?” She said aloud, breaking her own train of thought as she attempted to remember when she’d decided to begin referring to him as ‘her angel’ considering they’d not had a real conversation, and she’d barely seen him enough to recognise his face if she passed him in the street. Nevertheless she had begun calling him such, at least in her mind when she thought of him, which had been every damn moment since he’d stumbled, bleeding, into her life just over a day ago.

With that strangely possessive thought lingering in her mind, she uncurled from her desk chair, where she’d spent the night after she’d passed out there. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence in the least, and she’d grown used to the horrible knotting feeling it left in her back, and the ridiculous cracking sound her joints made when she stood from that position. Today would be worse for getting carried away in her own mind, she could already feel it as she had to face the task of cleaning away the blood and debris from her barn, and it was going to take a long while to scrub away the blood from the concrete flooring, but putting it off wouldn’t make it any easier. “Think of something else.” She told herself under her breath, often times did she speak to herself to feign some kind of company, and also to remind herself of things of importance. Things of importance such as keeping an angel she’d grown inexplicably drawn to out of her mind despite the fact that now she had to clear away the evidence he was here at all.  

It was still early but the storm had cleared by now, the sun barely having risen over the hills in the distance, casting a beautiful glow across her fields as she wandered out the front door. It was beautiful here, she was never in doubt of that, it was quiet, and calm, and it was beautiful, she breathed in the clean air deeply and letting it clear her head at least minutely as she put her earphones in, blaring her music as loud as possible to drown out the noise in her head before moving off towards the barn, a slight dancing skip in her step that matched the music that flowed through her body.

“ _She’s got a smile it seems to me, reminds me of childhood memories,_ ” she sung softly to herself as she forced the doors open again, screwing up her nose immediately at the sight of all the blood in the middle of the room, but simply sighed and continued singing along to music so loud she couldn’t hear herself, “ _Where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky…”_

She took her time gathering the necessary cleaning supplies from one of the far workbenches before wandering into the middle of the room and falling to her knees, tying her hair back again to begin scrubbing the floor, “ _Now and then when I see her face, she takes me away to that special place and if I’d stare too long I’d probably break down and cry. Oh, oh, oh, sweet child o’ mine._ ”

It passed as arduously as she’d expected it would have, that repetitive motion over and over, scrubbing away stains and trying to imagine them as something other than angel blood. At some point in the process something shifted, not physically, there was just something in the atmosphere that moved, as if the air had all of a sudden changed. There was a feeling in the pit of her something, like she was missing something, something had happened that she didn’t realise, hadn’t noticed, but after a moment of particularly fierce scrubbing and nothing happening, she ignored it, brushing it off as nothing significant in favour of getting her job done. Three hours deep she needed a break, her arms ached and her legs had fallen asleep from her being kneeled on the concrete. Standing slowly she finally removed her earbuds, tucking them away in her pocket for a while to hear the outside world and maybe sing to herself where she could hear, the barn did have good acoustics after all.  

“Shit,” she groaned softly, placing her hands on her hips as she stretched her back, her bones shifting and her muscles stretching out of their stiffness, it was an odd kind of pleasure but it was pleasure nonetheless, “oh, God.”

“Not quite.” His voice startled her, she spun around so fast she almost lost her footing on the soap still on the floor.  Her eyes fell on him and immediately she lost her breath, she couldn’t tell why either, maybe it was surprise, or fear, or complete and total awe. Most likely it was the later of those options, considering the billion thoughts that ran through her mind, none of them winning out over the mess of the rest.  

“Angel…” she said simply, lamely, her brain only clearing marginally after the word had left her mouth in her own bewilderment.  

“Are you asking or is that my nickname now?” He questioned, stepping in further from the door, the sun behind him made him glow like something, well, like something heavenly. The colour of his hair in the afternoon sun almost matched his wings, maybe that’s why he’d chosen this vessel, or maybe it was because he was absolutely stunning. Either way, it wasn’t what she should be focussing on right now.

“Uh, more of just a vague statement.” she clarified, shaking her head a little as she brushed down the front of her jeans even though they were beyond salvation at this point. “Why are you here?” She finally settled on a single question, her heart rate quickening with every step he took closer to her.  

“You saved an angel’s life and it shocks you that he might return.” Gabriel smirked slightly, and expression she could already tell he wore often. To her great relief, he stopped at a reasonable distance in front of her.  

“Almost two days later after disappearing and leaving me asleep on the floor, covered in your blood, might I add?” She asked, even though it wasn’t really a question, “Yeah, I’m a little bit surprised.”

“In my defence, I did get the chuckleheads to come and get you when I woke up.” He grinned, looking her over slowly. It was all she could do not to squirm under his gaze, is this how Castiel felt when she studied him so closely? “Not that you made it easy for me, I could barely get onto the porch with how heavily warded you have the place.”

“When you do what I do and know who I know, protection is necessary.” She sighed, it was odd how smoothly conversation flowed with him, as if she’d known him a million life times, as if she hadn’t been dreaming about the most intimate parts of him only hours ago. Or at least _some_ of the most intimate parts of him

“Well, your protection meant that I had to knock on the door, which I’m definitely not used to.” He wandered over, sitting down on the examination table she’d just cleaned and straightened up, she screwed up her nose slightly but said nothing.  

“You’re not used to common manners?” she scoffed, dropping back to her knees carefully, starting on the rest of the mess.

“No, why should I be?” He shrugged, looking down at her as she worked, hearing her laugh under her breath at his reply.  Y/N sat back slightly, an amused expression as her face as she thought for a moment.  

“I guess you shouldn’t.” She chuckled, scratching the back of her head absently, “All things considered, you really don’t have repercussions for being a dick head.”

Gabriel blinked slowly, it was uncommon for anyone to speak so freely around him in their first meeting, and he found that most people tended to be a bit more awed, less eager to speak down to him in the very least.  “Anyway, let’s get this done.” He sighed heavily, snapping his fingers once.

Instantly the floor was clean, spotless in fact. The blood was gone and she was left sitting on a floor with a clean scrubbing brush in her hands, and an unreasonable amount of rage bubbling up in her chest, “Thanks for finishing up for me, too bad you weren’t here three hours ago when I started.” She hummed sarcastically, pulling herself back to her feet a minute after she’d gotten down to begin with.  

“You’re welcome.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, as he got close again, this time he was much too close. Against her own will, Y/N held her breath because of the proximity, he had an effect on her, one that felt nice but frustrated her, it made her feel out of control. “Now, let’s get this over with.”

“Wh-what? Get what over with?” She asked breathlessly, cursing herself for stumbling on her words, for letting her eyes drift to his lips for just a second long enough to get caught. Gabriel smirked, licking his lips carefully.  

“Wrong again, sugar.” He mumbled, a seductive tone in his voice just to torment her. “You saved me, I owe you a debt. I don’t like debts, so what do you want?”

“I don’t want anything.” She answered, stepping back slightly to allow herself to breathe, a frown settling on her features as she looked at him in confusion.  

“Oh, come on, you want _something_ , everyone wants something.” His smirk never faltered, everybody had their price and he would find hers, “Anything you could dream of, I can provide.”

“I don’t want anything.” She repeated verbatim, her frown moving further from confusion towards anger. That made his expression drop slightly.  

“There’s no need to play hard to get, Y/N.” He said almost threateningly, she raised an eyebrow.  

“I’m serious, Gabriel, I don’t want anything. I didn’t help you for some kind of debt to be owed, I did it because I have morals, and I didn’t want to see an angel dead.” She said defensively, moving away to put back her cleaning supplies, he only followed her. His frustration grew, he had wanted this over with as soon as possible, and he ignored the shiver that fought to course through him when she said his name.  

“Right, because of your obsession with us.” There was no doubt he was mocking her, her cheeks flushed from embarrassment, she’d never thought of it as an obsession, just an intense interest. Still, she absolutely refused to show that outwardly, she had always stood her ground and she wouldn’t stop now, not even for an angel who admittedly made her knees weak.  

“Yes, that’s why I helped you, and it’s funny you should bring it up,” she smiled tightly walking towards the barn’s exit, flustered and annoyed, “because the one thing I’d ever want from you, you’ve already given me.”

“What?” It almost came out as a growl, she ignored him as she shut the barn doors in his face. He didn’t follow her, he simply appeared on her porch as she stormed towards the stairs, “What do you mean?”

“The only thing missing from my research was a definitive analysis of an angel’s wings and thanks to you and whatever reckless shit you did to end up bleeding out in my barn, I got that.” She spat back at him, her attempt to storm off was halted when he grabbed her arm, holding her firmly and yet not tight enough to hurt her.

“You wrote about them?” His voice was low, there was something in it that she hadn’t heard yet, something that made her chest heat up indescribably.

“…and drew them.” The words left her softly, before she had the time to even question them, there was a fire in his eyes now that made her stomach twist in knots, he was _immaculate_ and she hated how it made her feel weak. His eyes darkened and he moved so close she could feel his chest heaving with his every time he took a breath, her breath only caught in her throat.  

“Show me.” He released his grip and she almost collapsed, as though his grip had been the only thing keeping her standing. By whatever divine force, she managed to stay upright, and get her wits about her fast enough to scurry inside to her desk, leaving the archangel alone on the porch.  

Her notebook lay open on her desk, beautiful weathered pages bound in a gorgeous leather cover, she was afraid of what he might do to it when she handed it over. The first handful of pages outlined what Cas had been teaching her about Enochian, but after that it was simply full of images, and writings, some of which she was now regretting at the thought he might read them. It was nothing explicit, per se, but it would be a lie to say that she hadn’t gotten carried away a few times as she described them, compared them to the most beautiful sights she had witnessed, wrote about how much she wanted to run her fingers through the feathers again, caressing the plumage with soft intention, full of adoration. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.  

“How much _is_ there?” His sarcastic quip broke her stupor, she collected the book quickly and closed it carefully, as much as she was dreading his reaction to it, she couldn’t exactly deny him, after all it was about him.

“Uh, here.” She muttered, a soft blush on her cheek as she shuffled back outside, handing over the book. He took it from her without hesitation, leaned against the side of her house, flipping open the cover to begin reading, right in front of her.

Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned it at all. Her throat was dry from nerves, and her stomach was twisting in place as his eyes scanned over the pages, his face unreadable.  

“Interesting.” He drawled softly, and then he was gone, and so was her book. There was no fuss, no puff of smoke, he just disappeared.  

Her heart fell into her stomach, he’d left with all of her research, her diagrams, her writings, half of her Enochian notes were gone with him, and still the worst part somehow managed to be that he was gone as well. Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she used that distraction to occupy her mind, it was a text from Dean that came at an opportune moment.

 ** _‘Finally found Cas.’_** It was simple, to the point as Dean tended to be, and it also planted an idea in her head instantaneously.  

 ** _‘He there with you?’_** She sent back.  

 ** _‘Yeah. Why?’_** She didn’t respond, at least not via text, opting instead to call as she wandered back inside slowly. It run three times before Dean picked up.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Nothing much, can you put Cas on?” She said quickly, Dean chuckled.  

“Nice to talk to you too.” He said, feigning offence. She went to respond but she could already hear the shuffling of the phone being passed across to the angel in the trench coat.  

“Y/N…” He always sounded so severe when he spoke, it made her smile in all honesty, “I heard what happened.”

“Yeah, yeah, well Gabriel came back today and I just had a question.” The words came out in a rush, she was desperate to know the answer to the question she was dying (and terrified) to ask.

“He was there? Why?” Castiel asked, ignoring her question completely, she almost slammed her head into a wall, she needed to know this and she didn’t have time to recount her whole day.  

“Yes he was here, apparently he owes me a debt or something but that doesn’t matter, Cas!” She said quickly, talking again before he could interrupt, “I had a bunch of notes and drawings and I mentioned it, he asked to see them so I showed him and he disappeared with them. Is it bad? Is it, like, offensive to write about an angel’s wings, or something?”

A moment of silence followed before Cas answered, “Possibly, but I don’t believe you need to worry.” He said back, Y/N collapsed into the nearest arm chair, groaning in frustration.  

“I’m gonna need more than that Cas.” She whined, using her free hand to comb through her hair nervously. “Why, uh… What do those notes mean? Like, what’s the significance of it?”

“Depending on what you wrote, it could be taken as a great insult, or it could be an angel’s equivalent of pornography.” The fact that he said those words so measured, and without a single clear emotion didn’t soften the blow. Her entire body tensed, her mind went blank as she floundered for something to say but nothing came into her head, there was no way her words could be taken as insulting, which could only mean…  

“ _Shit,_ ” she mumbled, trying to sort out which emotions she was feeling at that exact moment, “do you think he’s offended?”

“I can’t speak for my brother, Y/N.” He said in response, finally his voice softened marginally as he heard her distress, “However, I have known Gabriel closely, and if I were to guess, I would believe he took the notes for his own pleasure.”  

“O-okay.” Was all she could manage to get out in answer to that, what could she possible do about it? He had them now and there was nothing she could feasibly do to retrieve them. The tell tale shuffling of the phone being handed over again came through the receiver.  

“Hey, Y/N,” Dean said, his voice teasing, she could _hear_ the stupid grin on his face, “heard you’ve been writing angel porn.”

She hung up.  

The rest of that day passed as a nightmare, there was nothing she could do about any of it, if she had known the implications she never would have handed over the book, she never would have written it in the first place. Now she was left with the knowledge that she’d essentially spent the past two days tangled up in some angel erotica fantasy, what’s worse was how much she’d enjoyed it all. It was a cold night, not rainy, but there was an undeniable chill in the air that made her shiver, so she sat in front of the fire, staring in and watching the flames dance and lick up the stones inside the fireplace, the warmth reminded her of him, the colour of crackling flames did also.

 _‘Is he reading it right now?’_ The thought moved through her mind, her first instinct was to look around as though someone might have heard what she had thought. No one was there, of course, and she was free to think what she pleased, even if they weren’t the pure thoughts you’d assume one would have towards an angel.  

Y/N fell backwards carefully, laying down on the carpet and staring up at the rafters as she allowed her mind to wander away with those thoughts. It wasn’t as though she didn’t enjoy her isolation, she liked being alone, but this was different, _he_ was different. There was something about the archangel that felt attached to her now, a link between them that she couldn’t describe that set all the best parts of her on fire at the mere thought of him, and she couldn’t shake the thought of him.

Some questions she couldn’t ask Cas, and those unanswered inquiries were driving her insane. Did angels have the same carnal desires as humans did? It was a part of her research that she’d never thought to cover, and only now was she desperate for answers. If only to know that maybe he was somewhere, alone with her notes, in the throes of unimaginable pleasure, moaning her name as he envisioned her in unholy positions.

Y/N groaned out loud, in frustration more than anything else as she thrashed around the carpet trying to release a pent up physical energy, a need that she knew wouldn’t be satisfied. It did nothing to soothe the heat that was blooming between her thighs, only serving to make her breathe harder, panting in the middle of her living room floor. “I’m going to hell.” She whined into her empty house.

It was a stupid idea, one she should have thought through further, but in the heat of the moment, she stood from her place on the floor and grabbed a nearby knife, a gift from Dean that he definitely wouldn’t approve being used for this purpose. Scouring her home for every angel related ward took a while, and carving out lines, destroying the effectiveness of them took slightly longer. If he wanted to come back, she was going to let him in, as much of an ass as he may be. In the moments after she’d un-warded her home, she would be lying to say she hadn’t expected he might show up straight away, she had hoped he would, but perhaps it was better that he didn’t, her self-control was clearly hitting an all-time low tonight.

In the end she decided it was best to just retire to bed, the last few days had been far too revealing for her, too much had happened that she could scarcely comprehend, and all she knew now was that she was tired, reckless, and lusting after an archangel; a combination that, only a week ago, she wouldn’t have believe could ever apply to her.

*-*-*-*-*

“How have they been?” She asked softly, examining the golden wings again, carefully avoiding touching them as well as she could.  

“Better.” He responded carefully. When he’d shown up again out of nowhere, she’d been hesitant but he’d only asked her to check his stitches and she had been more than eager to see those stunning wings again, so she said she would.  

“I’m gonna have to touch them to get to the stitches.” She muttered, her fingers flinching away every time they got close.  

“Go on then, sugar.” He chuckled softly, Y/N blushed darkly, unable to keep the heat from rising to her face.

It was hesitant touches at first, soft and gentle as she attempted to find the stitches and scarring entirely by her memory of the injuries, apparently she’d been inaccurate in her remembrance. Her fingers woven into the soft feathers, running through the plumage in search of the scars… At first. It took no time at all until she was carried away, her mind elsewhere as she laid delicate touches over the feathers.

Gabriel’s whole form had tensed at first, his body rigid from the sudden intimacy, even if it had been expected. After a moment, a shudder had ran through his body and since that he hadn’t been able to stop the tremors that shook his body at her touch. He didn’t dare speak up, for fear she would stop and leave him wanting.  

Her hands moved slowly towards his back, tracing the soft lines as she got nearer and nearer to the most sensitive area, the juncture between his back and his wing, her fingers brushing against the skin there, as soon as she had made contact, he moaned. She retracted her hands on instinct, and he immediately missed the contact. “Was that a good noise or a bad noise?” She asked softly.

“Good.” He got out through gritted teeth, his eyes falling closed when he felt her hands rest softly against his back, he felt her get closer, so close the heat of her chest was against his back, her careful fingers grabbing hastily at the closest feathers to his back. A loud moan escaped him again, his grip on the examination table tightening with the tension in his stomach.

“Gabriel,” she hummed softly, ducking her head to kiss the side of his neck hotly, hands slipping as her nails scraped lightly down his back, drawing out another noise of appreciation from the archangel. She rounded him quickly to stand in front of him, carefully resting her hands against his chest, “d-do angels sleep with people?” Her voice was delicate, hopeful, and already consumed by lust.  

“Only when they beg.” Gabriel only smirked at her, standing to look down at her his hands sliding up her sides slowly, before she could respond, he captured her lips in a heated kiss. Her response was immediate, her arms winding around his neck to pull him in closer. There was very little romance to it, it was desperate and needy, a fight for dominance that he was easily winning, as he pushed her back, stumbling with her until the edge of a work bench was pressing into the small of her back, his hands found the back of her thighs, lifting her to sit on the bench and moving immediately between her legs to get as close to her body as possible. Y/N only moved closer to the edge until their bodies we’re joined at every possible point, never did they break the fervent kiss, her hands moving down his back until she felt that juncture, massaging her fingers into that spot, just as they broke away for air. “ _Fuck._ ”

His hands pulled at the material of her shirt until she moved back enough for it to be discarded completely to the side, as soon as it was off he tore away to stare at her, to admire the curves of her body almost completely bare to him. His hands dropped to her thighs, inching up under her skirt painfully slowly, if he had his own way he wouldn’t wait, but this wasn’t about his way, it was about hearing her plead for him. Y/N rested her hands on his chest, her breathing heavy, she could feel his arousal through the layers of clothing separating them, and she had never been so desperate to get clothes off. “ _Gabriel, please…_ ” She breathed out, his hands only moving closer to where she wanted him most, where she needed him.

“That’s good, princess.” He smirked, his fingers tracing the lace outline of her panties. Y/N whimpered softly, attempting to grind into his hand, only to have him retract his hand, gripping her thigh harshly to still her. She only pulled him back in closer, moving her hips against his, he grunted softly, burying his head in the crook of her neck, nipping at the soft flesh there, only causing her to groan, grinding into him steadily in search of some kind of friction. Her hand slipped between them, as she hopelessly tried to unbutton his pants, pushing them down when finally she got them undone. He grabbed her wrist before she could go further, “Beg for me, sweetheart.”

She took a shaking breath, their desperate eyes locking. “Please, please, I want you. I _need_ you, Gabriel.”

“Tell me what you want.” He ordered breathlessly, she moaned, half in frustration, half out of a sheer need for him.  

“Gabriel, _fuck me._ ”

*-*-*-*-

She jolted upright in her bed, clutching at the covers as she tried to steady her breathing. The first thing her eyes landed on was him, sitting at the end of her bed with a devious smirk on his face, she blushed instantly, and so bright she knew he would have noticed. “W-what are you, uh, what's… Hi.” She stuttered out helplessly.  

“And to think us we’re just getting to the good part.” He smirked, her expression immediately dropping.

“Y-you did.. The dream…” she managed quietly, narrowing her eyes at him incredulously.  

“Call it payback.” He grinned, holding up her notebook.

“Hey, that’s different! I didn’t know what it meant.” She grumbled, throwing back the covers and leaning towards him, stealing her book back from his hands.

“Even so, it’s only fair I get revenge for what you did to me, sugar.” It was clear that he was genuine in those words, even if they did sound teasing. Those thoughts wouldn’t shake from her mind now, if he hadn’t have said so she would have believed that dream was all her own fantasy, and she wouldn’t have questioned it either. In that moment, an idea came into her head, and it could go horribly wrong or wonderfully right, and it was a risk she was willing to take.  

“Maybe it’s good that you’re here.” Her tone changed in an instant, his cocky smirk faltered for only a second.  

“Why’s that?” He asked curiously, watching as she carefully crawled over to him kneeling behind him.  

“You know that debt you say you owe me?” She hummed, running her fingers through his hair slowly, eliciting a soft groan from him.  

“I remember it vaguely.” He murmured, leaning back into her touch.  

“I think I know what I want.” she grinned, her hands slipping onto his chest.  

“What would that be, sugar?” He hummed back, tilting his head to allow her access to duck down, kissing his neck slowly.  

“ _You._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! If there's anything you want me to write (For Gabriel or someone else ) hit me up, and I'll see what I can get done for you.


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